


Silk suit, black tie

by Faineant



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Suit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faineant/pseuds/Faineant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s a reason, right? For your obsession with the ties, there has to be,” Cesc says, and for a moment David is taken aback, because no, actually, there isn’t. It just bothers him when they’re crooked, it’s not a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk suit, black tie

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a football kink meme prompt. Inspired by [this](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcnpntI2Wu1r9pahco1_250.gif) [gifset](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcnpntI2Wu1r9pahco3_250.gif).

“Here, let me,” David says when he walks past Cesc on his way to his locker and sees him trying to adjust the knot on his tie with one hand, “I don’t understand how you’re still this terrible at dressing yourself.”

“It looked fine, it’s not my fault that you have this weird obsession with ties,” Cesc says, but he doesn’t even flinch when David steps in close and raises his hands to make sure the ends are hanging straight as he adjust the knot, runs his hands along the crisp collar, fingers brushing against Cesc’s warm skin. 

“There,” he says, low in his throat. “Almost like an adult.” 

“Thanks,” Cesc mutters under his breath. Their eyes meet briefly, and David thinks he sees something in Cesc’s face that he’s not used to seeing anymore, but he thinks maybe it’s just the proximity, the intimacy of the gesture. 

But then when they’re on the pitch, and he’s smiling into the sun and trying not to blink as the photographer’s camera clicks away, he feels a hand brushing against the small of his back, light at first and then firmer, pressing in just above the waistline of his trousers, and he only just manages to stop himself from jerking his head around. 

Then the touch is gone, and David feels a hot flash of anger. When the photographer signals that he’s done, Cesc is gone before David can turn around to ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. 

Because they did this sometimes, before Cesc came to Barcelona, but they haven’t since, and David still isn’t sure why. He tried once, a few weeks after Cesc joined them in the dressing room, stood a little closer than usual after Cesc came out of the shower after a Monday recovery session, running his hand along the tattoo on his elbow as they chatted about something inconsequential, the kind of touch casual enough not to draw attention but significant between them, the kind of touch they always used to signal _meet you upstairs in ten minutes_. Cesc had shrugged him off and looked at him, all dark and serious, and said, “I don’t think this is a good idea,” gesturing vaguely at the space around them, and David said, “Okay,” and stepped away, and that was the end of that. 

David doesn’t really know what happened, what changed, but they’ve always been teammates before whatever else they were, so he doesn’t push it, and he doesn’t ask. Or maybe it’s that he doesn’t know what to ask, exactly, because they’ve never talked about what they were doing, and David doesn’t know how to start. And then he got injured, and he had other things on his mind. 

And yes, sometimes, in the flurry of minutes and goals at the start of the season, when he puts a ball in the back of the net after a perfect pass from Cesc and they wrap their arms around each other in celebration and Cesc smells of fresh sweat and victory, he thinks about it, but never for too long. 

David doesn’t see Cesc when he gets back into the locker room, and his bag is already gone, so David lets go of his irritation and really, it’s easier to write it off as a blip on the radar, one more thing for him to forget about. Except that when he walks out into the parking lot, he finds Cesc leaning against the passenger side of his car, playing absently with his phone. He’s still wearing his official suit. David stops in his tracks. “What are you doing?” he says before he can really think about it, and he’s surprised that it still comes out sounding angry.

“I was hoping you could give me a ride,” Cesc answers calmly, hand shoved deep into his suit pocket. 

“Do you not own a car?” David asks. 

“I came by taxi,” Cesc says with a conspiratorial, lopsided smile. David tries to read him, tries to figure out what it means, tries not to feel something jump somewhere underneath his ribcage at the way Cesc is looking at him, but he can’t. 

“Get in,” he says, and Cesc opens the passenger door with a grin. 

The drive is oddly quiet. The radio turns on automatically when he starts the engine, and Cesc lounges back into his seat, looking absently out the window, occasionally tapping his fingers against his knee in a rhythm that doesn’t match the music. 

When David misses the turn that would lead him to Cesc’s house, Cesc doesn’t comment, but he glanced over with a lazy smile that makes David feel unsettled, hot under the collar of his jumper, and more than a little ridiculous. 

By the time they get to his house, David feels completely on edge. He closes the door behind him and tries to work out what happens next, but Cesc isn't having the same problem. He just steps in close, right into his space, and David feels the hairs on his arms standing up when Cesc just casually puts a hand on his waist and leans down to kiss him. 

David freezes for a second, but then he inhales and kisses him back, and everything snaps back into place, his hand coming up to grasp the side of Cesc’s face, and Cesc pushes as David pulls until they’re pressed against the door, bodies flush and mouths moving breathless against each other. 

It’s familiar and strange at the same time - the coarse rub of Cesc’s beard against his fingers where in his memory there’s only smooth skin, the way his shoulders are a little fuller, the way he feels heavier all over, but at the same time, Cesc is still Cesc and David groans into his mouth because he _wants_ , wants to push him against the wall and kiss him until he’s gasping for breath, wants to take off his ridiculous suit and run his hands over new muscles and familiar skin, wants to take him upstairs and fuck him in his bed, again and again. 

“Fuck,” David mutters against Cesc’s mouth, and Cesc takes it as his cue to move his mouth down, biting at David’s jaw, his leg pressing in between David’s own, pushes in closer. David takes a deep breath, slides his hand around the back of his neck. 

“Cesc,” he says quietly, running his hand over the edge of Cesc’s collar. Cesc just hums in response and rolls his hips, and David groans, because _fuck_ , and David can’t believe he’s doing this, but he needs to - “Cesc,” he says again, “What are we doing?” and this time Cesc pulls back a little, just enough that they can look at each other. 

“What do you think?” he says, and leans in to nip at his lips, but David pulls his head back, puts his hand on Cesc’s chest to stop him. “What,” Cesc asks, “What’s the problem?” 

“I thought you wanted to stop this,” David says, a little rushed, and regrets it immediately, because now he’s making it sound like whatever it was that they did was bigger than it was, and it’s not like he’s spent the past year and a half of his life pining after Cesc Fabregas, but. 

Cesc breathes hard and closes his eyes, presses their foreheads together. “I can’t believe you want to talk about this now,” he mutters, and David doesn’t blame him, because really, he can’t either, not when they’re pressed together like this, when he can feel Cesc’s breath on his face and his cock against his hip, when it would be so easy not to. “I didn’t want to _stop_. I just - I thought it would be complicated,” he says, and brushes his lips against David’s. 

“And now it’s not?” David manages, just before he leans in to kiss him again, hard and close-mouthed, hand tangling in Cesc’s too-long hair. 

“Yeah, it is,” Cesc says, “But I just -” he pauses, looking lost and a little pleading. And maybe David still doesn’t understand it, but with Cesc looking at him like this, he’s finding it hard to remember why it matters any more, when they’re both here now. He mutters, “Ok,” under his breath, tries to make it sound reassuring, and moves in to kiss Cesc, sloppy and wet, and Cesc responds , hands sliding between David’s back and the door, pulling him in, while David starts working on taking off his jacket, but it gets stuck at his elbows and Cesc laughs into his mouth, moves until he can shrug it off completely.

Cesc ducks down to mouth at his neck, just above his collar, and David tilts his head back against the wood and mutters a quiet “Fuck,” slides his hand down Cesc’s back to grab at his hips, looking for more friction, more leverage, scrambles at the fabric of his shirt at the waistband, trying to get it out so he can get at his skin, and Cesc pulls back, breathing hard, says, “Wait, wait.” 

“Why,” David manages to get out, digging his fingers into the firm muscle of Cesc’s ass, moving his mouth over the stubble on his jaw. Cesc turns his head to kiss David’s temple and steps back, smiling, says, “Just, come on.” 

He grabs David’s arm just above his wrist and pulls him into the living room, steering him towards the couch. Cesc pushes him down and David lets him, falling into the cushions. He reaches out to grab Cesc around the waist, pull him down with him, but Cesc resists, smiles down at him, then kicks David’s legs apart and goes down to his knees between them. 

“Shit,” David says hoarsely, “Shit,” and Cesc grins and says, “Yeah?”, runs his hands from David’s knees to his inner thighs, pressing against the bulge in his jeans before moving up and rubbing at the skin just above his waistband. 

He pushes the fabric up and leans his head down, and then his mouth is hot on David’s abdomen, and he can’t help himself, his hips jerk up and his hand comes around to the back of his head. Cesc lets out a smug, quiet laugh, pushes hist shirt up further. “Get this off,” he murmurs, and David obeys, sitting up so he can pull the shirt off over his head. 

Cesc sits back, watching him, trails a hand almost absently up his exposed ribcage. David reaches for Cesc’s shoulders, fingers bunching in the fabric. “Come on, you too,” he tries, but Cesc looks up and says, “Not yet.” David wants to argue, but then Cesc’s mouth is back on his stomach and he’s working open the buttons on his jeans, pushing back the fabric of his boxers until he can lean down to lick around the head of his cock. 

David groans and closes his eyes, blindly brings a hand up to grasp at Cesc’s head, not sure if he wants to pull him back or push him down. Cesc makes the decision for him, leaning back. David opens his eyes, questioning. 

“There’s a reason, right? For your obsession with the ties, there has to be,” Cesc says, and for a moment David is taken aback, because no, actually, there isn’t. It just bothers him when they’re crooked, it’s not a _thing_ , and he’s about to say so, but then Cesc takes his cock in his hand and slides his mouth down over his cock, never breaking eye contact, and whatever he was about to say is obliterated by the wet heat of Cesc’s mouth.

And Cesc is right, it is mesmerizing, the sight of him on his knees in his shirt and tie, mouth stretched over David’s cock. David runs his fingers over the border of his collar, to the front, grasps lightly at his tie. Cesc groans and slides his mouth down further, hand almost too tight around the base of his cock, and the other digging into his hip. 

And it’s so good, he could easily come just like this, into Cesc’s mouth, and he knows that Cesc would let him, that he likes it, and the thought makes him shudder, but he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to feel Cesc’s naked body against his own.

“Fuck,” David says, and pulls him off. Cesc looks at him, hazy and a little confused. “Come up here,” David says, and pulls at his arm until he starts to cooperate, clambering up onto the couch and all over David. 

He kisses Cesc again and he can taste the bitterness in his mouth, buries a hand in Cesc’s hair and presses in closer, kisses him maybe a little too hard, presses him down into the couch cushions, hands tearing at his clothes, and Cesc is helping him, until his shirt falls open and David can run his hands down Cesc’s chest. 

Their hands bump into each other struggling to get his trousers open, and Cesc laughs breathlessly into his mouth, then groans when David manages to wrap his hand around his cock, gripping tight. Cesc’s hands are digging into his back, moving restlessly, making little noises that go straight to David’s underbelly. 

David runs his hand down Cesc’s ribcage, his side, around his hip, and then Cesc lifts up his leg to hook it around David’s waist, and now they’re rocking against each other, cocks rubbing together, and David clumsily tries to get both of them in his grip as he rocks his hips down, trying to get more friction, just _more_. 

Cesc breaks the kiss, says, “David,” voice hoarse and eyes dark and unfocussed, mouth swollen, “David, fuck, I want -” and he grips David’s ass, rolls his hips up hard, and David breathes, “Yeah, _fuck_ , yeah, me too, but - later, just let me -”, and then Cesc is moaning, low in his throat, hips jerking erratically, and David can feel him coming over his hand, between their stomachs.

“Fuck, Cesc,” David says again, looks down at his flushed face, a little amazed, because Cesc is beautiful like this. His fingers clasp around Cesc’s thigh, and he thrusts harder into his own hand and against Cesc’s stomach, slippery with come.

Cesc sort of groans, pulls him down for another kiss, works a hand down between their bodies to tangle with David’s against his cock, and David can’t anymore, just buries his head in Cesc’s neck and lets go of his tenuous control with a muffled groan, all the tension he’s felt since that afternoon, or maybe since much longer than that, flowing out of him as he shakes against Cesc’s solid body. 

He lies, breathing hard into Cesc’s shoulder for a while, and Cesc’s leg has slid down to tangle with his own, his hands smoothing up and down his back as David tries to make sense of the world. 

“I think we got come all over my official suit,” Cesc says with a small laugh, voice a little shaky. 

David presses a smile against the pulse point in his neck. “Yeah, we did. Do you want to stay for lunch while we clean it up?” he asks quietly.

“That would make it complicated,” Cesc mumbles, after a while. David kisses his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. 

“Yeah, it would. Stay anyway?” 

“Okay,” Cesc says, and nuzzles his face into David’s hair. They’re a mess, tangled on the couch and still half in their clothes. Later, David decides, he’s going to get up and make them lunch while Cesc takes a shower, and then they’ll sit down and eat together and maybe finally talk about this like adults. But for now, Cesc’s skin is warm against his own, their bodies wrapped around each other in a way that shouldn’t be comfortable but is, and David is happy to stay just like this for a little longer.


End file.
